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12:43 p.m. - 2011-10-19
The Other Kind of Life List

Things I learned/re-learned while I was gone:

Taking Lappy upstairs and watching 'Star Trek NG' in bed is a goofy delight. Mouse and pad at my right hand, Lappy balanced on my chest propped up by my knees, headphones clamped on and turned up loud I was on the Enterprise last night.

I am nowhere near as good at giving help and kindness as I am at receiving it. Sure enough, Juni got Jet home and the %&$# car shat the bed. My frustration and embarrassment is overwhelming.

Being without a cell phone (no landline either) is a mixed blessing. I am stymied by tiny things like confirming appointments, but am also off the hook for having to be instantly available to any and all who want to barge into my life.

Telling Mick anything except the most dipshit benign happy crappy is totally not worth it. Expecting my husband to be my friend, a sympathetic shoulder or any f-ing help at all is futile. I guess my role as Suck It Up Girl is a permanent life condition. Having a horrible day and then being berated, lectured, yelled at and forced to listen to how bad my hard stuff makes HIM feel is so fricken awful and lonely I am not EVER going to bother saying anything to him anymore. Are there really any men who give a shit, or is everything always, always about THEM?

Wolf's voice is breaking and hearing a man's voice reply to my shouted question from another room is startling. I love the person he's becoming (so kind, so smart), but my baby the baritone is harder to accept than I knew. He doesn't fit in my lap anymore, he feels okay about swearing in front of me, I had to buy him deodorant, and now this deep, deep voice. Having gone through this with Alex in no way makes going through it with Wolf any easier. I expected it and was glad when Alex got older (so very hairy, deep voiced and tall) because it marked that the circle of life goes on. But having my baby, my last chick, the reason I continue to define myself as 'Mom' morphing into a grown person is killing me. Is it terrible to be sort of glad the lousy economy and changing mores means Wolf will live under my roof for a long time to come? Who the hell am I if I'm not 'Mom' anymore? No one.

Getting lost isn't the adventure it used to be. I got incredibly twisted around on Monday and ended up deep into the county to the north of my own. No phone to ask directions. No GPS to put my feet back on the right path. I was panicked, scared, and angry. To spend over two hours wandering through unmarked, foreign territory and every turn seemed to be the wrong one, not a deli or a gas station for miles and miles and miles, freaking out that I'd gotten so very lost and knowing how furious Mick would be that I hadn't gotten to the insurance agent's and that I was racking up miles on the leased car and Wolf would get home and I wouldn't be there and I was slapped with the knowledge I am an incompetent fool, well, it was bloody awful. In former years I looked at being lost as an opportunity for discovery and adventure. On Monday I just felt like a clueless jerk. Afraid, unable, and dreading the consequences when I finally did get home. (And I was right, btw, Mick made my experience a 1,000 times worse with his ugliness and anger. Lesson definitely learned.)

As I didn't know I lived in Pretty Town until I didn't anymore, so too am I discovering how much I relied on being a smart person. And now whether it's fear or age or meds or hormones, the causes are moot, I am lying cheek and jowl with what it's like to be an idiot.

And I hate it.

I hate that my intended good deeds end up as shite. I hate that I'm panicked and sad over losing my needy job as 'Mom'- shouldn't I have more to me than that? I hate that my jeans are falling off me and my face and bod are so baggy and droopy. I'm upset my last good night's sleep is a distant taunting memory. I loathe knowing even saying something in my own goddamn blog is going to bring a shitstorm of mockery, criticism and grief. I ache over the MIL I once thought I had and burn with shame over what a dimwit I was to believe I mattered to and was loved by her. I miss my desktop and it's only a stupid machine, a thing, yet I long for it like a lover. I detest feeling so confused and dumb.

Anyway, this is why I've been so quiet. No worries about leaving a comment. I'll get my act together (or fake it 'til I make it) sooner than soon. Just needed to barf it up so I could get past it. Nothing like a psychic purge to put an idiot's feet back on the right way to be again. Blogs- the vomitorium and GPS of the psyche.